The Sounds of Music and Silence
by casey0219
Summary: Boredom results in our trio forming ... well, a band.


"Bada bee bap bumbum ..."

LiAnn groaned at Mac, so he shut up. Silence nestled within the walls of the Director's office again. She was over an hour late now and Mac was B-O-R-E-D bored. LiAnnn seemed as patient as ever - god, she could be annoying. Vic was still staring at his hands, as if he regretted never following his dream of being a hand model or something.

Yup, being a secret government spy type was all thrills, all the time.

Shifting in his chair again, Mac sighed. He closed his eyes and tried once more find a comfy position to doze in, but these chairs had, after all, been chosen by the Director. If he could at least meditate ... But this blasted song was running through his mind, repeating and repeating, driving him loopy. Trying to replace it with a song he'd heard on the radio coming in to work was so not working. It was stuck on a loop and taking him for the ride.

"Ah whim bah way, a whim bah way." Hey, that wasn't in his head. Where was it coming from? Mac had just clued in to the fact that he was singing aloud when he heard Vic's voice joining in:

"In the jungle, the mighty jungle ..."

He kept going with his "whim bah way"s, harmonizing with Vic. Not bad at all, if he did say so himself.

And then, out of nowhere, a higher voice chimed in at just the right moment with, "Ahhhh weeee ooh weee ooooh, eeee ou ma ma ma way." Hey, LiAnn could sing!

The second time around, they sounded really good and were getting into it, enjoying the silliness.

"Hush, my darling, don't cry my darling," Vic sang.

"Oooh weeee," trilled LiAnn.

"Ah whim bah way," Mac kept the beat.

Everybody got stuck on the 401 sometime, but that didn't mean she had to provide her minions with such a tame explanation for her tardiness, the Director reasoned, clicking along the corridor in turquoise spiked heels. Not that she was obliged to explain _anything _to them, but a good story now and again kept the right amount of respectful fear instilled.

She stopped in her tracks and ruminations as the sound of ... singing? Yes, singing – and not half bad singing, either – wafted down the hall. Moving along on tiptoes, she traced it to her office and silently opened the door, certain some trickster was up to no good. She had her enemies, after all. She would take some 401 frustration out on the miscreant.

There, sitting at their accustomed places at the long table she normally presided over, were her favourite/most hated/annoying reasons for coming to work. Eyes closed, they were singing, snapping their fingers (Vic), tapping their feet (Mac), and snapping their fingers (LiAnn). They sounded like they were enjoying themselves.

For a moment, she was jealous. Then she figured that they were having too much fun and needed a little reminder of what life was really all about. Happily (for her), the universe had just provided a perfect instrument of torture.

But first, she stood there and listened to a few more rounds of some pretty fine a cappella.

Clapping.

Clapping?

All three were out of their chairs, weapons drawn. Then they realized who they were aiming at. The Director sauntered down the few stairs, still clapping sarcastically, if one could be said to clap sarcastically.

"Oh, very nice, kiddies. Very nice. I see you've worked hard to impress me with your talents. An apple is nice, but a serenade? Now _that's_ something. Although, I do wonder at the choice of material. _This_ lioness isn't sleeping well, at least not when there are so many more interesting things to d o at night. Be seated, my high-strung darlings," she waved them regally towards their chairs. "I have the _perfect_ little job for such a musically talented trio."

Worried glances passed among said trio.

"Now, now," the Director admonished. "I had no idea you were so gifted in the performance arts. I was just about to search out other operatives for this mission, but seeing as you've all auditioned so well ..."

Accusing looks headed towards Mac's end of the table.

"You are forming a band. A group. Whatever. Call yourselves "The Agency" and I am sure you'll have a hit within a week. Your mission is to _"

"No buts, children. I have every confidence in you, Dobrinsky-" (Mac choked at this) "- and Jackie" (insert groan from LiAnn here). "Victor, far from the Mississippi but never far from your harmonica, right? Yes, we _DO_ know everything about you. LiAnn, Mac, did the Tangs neglect the artistic side of your education?"

_What happened to knowing all about us? _waswritten clearly on their faces. Chances are the Director did know, but was having her fun with them, as usual. Knowing they were three-quarters of the way into the quicksand already, what could they do but answer?

"Clarinet," said LiAnn.

'Trumpet," Mad grudgingly admitted.

"Quite a little orchestra we have here. Dobrinksky's piano and Jackie's drums should round out the sound nicely. Now, you'll need to rehearse a few numbers to get in the door, not to mention you need to work on your look. I shall be your wardrobe consultant, –"

The horrors, the horrors! Mac warmed his Armani-clad arms around himself as if to protect his suit. LiAnn shuddered, while Vic just looked like a dear in headlights and stuck his hands in his pockets. Maybe otherwise he would have found himself strangling his boss?

"- while Mr. Murphy and Mr. Camier can help with the technical aspect of learning the music, voice training and the like. Nathan will give you backgrounds and identities. Oh, and Victor? It's likely you'll run into some celebrities as you start moving in these circles. Let's not have a repeat of a certain drooling incident, hmmm?"

LiAnn was already out the door, information files in hand, but Mac turned to give Vic the requisite "hee hee" look. Vic returned a nasty one, but the effect was ruined by his blush.


End file.
